


colored love

by aesthetic_chubby_potato



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, For the most part, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Multi, Orlando shooting, open to the reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:09:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10916865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesthetic_chubby_potato/pseuds/aesthetic_chubby_potato
Summary: they lived in a world where love was supposed to be accepted, embraced. yet their love was explicitly toxic-to many. people act out of hate. they let that taint their love. john never should’ve. he missed alex and he hoped with all his broken heart that his broken love would prevail and heal alex.*inspired from the tragic events of the Orlando shooting at Pulse night club. <3*





	colored love

**Author's Note:**

> hi loves, thanks for reading enjoy!

john first believed their love was orange. a beautiful, gorgeous, innocent peach colored orange. sunkissed love, peppered kisses, mountains of blankets, domestic moments. giggles, spurts of laughs, spontaneous declarations of love to each other. and goddamnit, their love was invincible yet the most vulnerable essence they’ve experienced, and what they experienced was crafted of steel. or so he thought. their love was orange for a long long time. sure, they had bumps, but never never yellow or red. 

it was orange until they- no- until he noticed the elongated stares towards them, the murmured snarky comments directed at them. he supposed, now that he thought about, alexander had always known. alexander, oh, his dear alexander, who didn’t deserve any of this. alexander, who spoke out against the conspicuous hatred in the world. his strong, beautiful alexander.

john became uneasy, tried to hide their pure “orange” love. he never should’ve, he was weak. and now it’s all his fault. alex became hurt. alex got hurt and it was all his fault. if he wasn’t such a scared -boyfriend-, if he hadn’t changed the orange to yellow and red, then they would not have broken up. and alex would never have flown to florida to get to that gay club and the goddamn guns would've gotten out. they never would’ve gotten shot. he never would’ve gotten shot. 

john remember this first burning crimson staining red argument they had. they both snapped. they both expected too much out of eachother, and never realized they were more than enough. too much, he supposed. they were never grateful enough. 

“why would you want to hide this beautiful orange love we share?”  
“i’m trying to protect you, alex. us. you know this “orange love” is toxic. you’ve heard it from my parents, strangers, teachers, even our “friends”.   
“why listen to them? aren’t we enough? aren’t i enough? it’s only us, john. and why can’t that be enough?”

they lived in a world where love was supposed to be accepted, embraced. yet their love was explicitly toxic-to many. they let that hurt their love. john never should’ve. he missed his alexander.

his alexander who used to wake up early to make john’s favorite breakfast. 

his alexander who blasted beyonce, kendrick lamar, disney, and taylor swift in the late night time, holding no shame. playfully dancing, swaying his hips, and laughing. then, being the awkward fool he was, he would trip and fall. of course, john would always catch him. but john couldn’t catch him this time. 

his alexander who his alexander who spoke poetic snippets of spanish to him, and wrote tearful love sonnets dedicated to john. john would kiss him. alex would kiss back. 

when john kissed him tonight, he felt no acceptance of any craving of the affectionate action. for alex lay inert on the bed. too still for john’s liking. 

john was there for every moment of the way. sure, they all visited. 

eliza used to bring flowers every day, along with angelica who brought warm hugs and fresh mint breath. peggy who brought her infectious smile and encouraging hope for them. hercules who brought blankets, and mediocre food for john. lafayette, who brought kisses and warm support, they held john when he sobbed, his body shaking from tears. 

however, days stretched into weeks. weeks stretched into months. months stretched into a year. 

they all had to stop sometime. john accepted their lack of presence. he supposed they had their own lives too. 

hercules got a new fashion job. lafayette’s closest friend, adrienne went missing, their attention centered around her. eliza, well, she found her own love, with maria. she grew busy. angelica, well, angelica was always busy, no longer tried to squeeze in alexander. busy with work and peggy. 

and peggy. oh peggy. 

peggy contracted a terminal illness. peggy was often at home, sick, and ill. can barely move, and yet she still comes more than the rest of them. he dearly appreciated peggy. 

however, john secretly thinks they visited for him rather than alexander.

alas, john needed it. but what he really needed was his alexander. oh how he longed to see him again. 

his alexander who drank the darkest black coffee. always adorned with stained teeth 

his alexander who smelled like the faintest scent of vanilla and cinnamon and coffee. 

his alexander with a mouth that ran faster than his thoughts, wide eyes and curious mind. 

his alexander blessed with passionate burning emotions and a subtle caribbean twang. 

his dearest babygirl, alexander. whom he loved with all his broken yet whole heart. 

alexander changed him. he missed his presence. he was here but he wasn’t. now, it was the wrong staining red. it wasn’t metaphorical, but literal. 

tonight, in the pale white sheets beneath him, steady beeping of the heart monitor, his alexander wasn’t alexander. and john was scared. they were both scared. 

tonight, alexander didn’t smell like cinnamon or vanilla, but rather the sickly clean antiseptic smell and john hated it. his alexander was silent. no coffee in sight. eyes closed. it’s like whatever happened stripped alexander or his well- his alexander-ness. stripped of his boisterousness. 

john decided, right now, their love was yellow. that one shade you never like to see. the shade that brings out the worst. orange fades to yellow. he hated yellow. 

he missed orange, pink, purple, green even somber blue. 

john hated the world. he hated the fucking men who came into the club. no, actually, he pitied the men. they must’ve had such a lack of love to result to hate. john thinks this is why they need more love in the world. love trumps hate. love always prevails. at least, that’s what john used to think. now he’s not so sure. too much hate now. where is the love? the damn damn love. love was supposed to fix everything. so now he’s hoping with all his dang broken heart, that he has enough to heal the broken shards of alexander. 

john sang. changing the lyrics as he went. for alexander

love doesn’t discriminate   
between the sinners and the saints   
it takes and it takes and it takes

and we keep on loving anyway   
we laugh and we cry   
and we break and we make our mistakes  
and if there’s a reason he’s by my side  
when so many have died  
i’m willing to wait for it   
i’m willing to wait for it. 

alex may be on the sickly white bed, no coffee, music, nor spanish. but his alexander gave little puffs of air, and signs of eyelids fluttering. john knew his love was enough, and that they were enough. always. for forever. broken love, but whole love. 

he would wait.   
he would always wait for his babygirl.

john decided even if this was a consequence of their orange beautiful love, it was worth it. love was worth the pain. always. at least for him. what they have, or had, was powerful, prevailing and unstoppable. still to the day. 

it doesn’t matter how long the love lasts, but rather how it felt while it did. for them, their love was the most perpetually beautiful thing they’ve ever felt. passionate, emotional, domestic. their love was wrong but it felt so right. and it was. it is. 

as john held alexander’s limp hand. he knew, this is love, broken love tainted by hate, but love nonetheless. and john wouldn’t change it for anything. their red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple and everything else love. 

eyes open. they gaze. 

he sobs. tears spring into his eyes, now lit up with happiness. “i missed you”

movement. a wince of pain. a ghost of a smile. “ me too. “

i love you”

“i think we’re rainbow.”

“me too”

it was amazingly beautiful how they understood each other without having to explain, forgiveness, john thinks, is beautiful and john thinks they are enough. 

no, john knew now, he didn’t think, he knew. 

he knew that their love was undoubtedly and proudly rainbow. not just orange, or yellow, or red. it is delicate and loud laughs, pain- stricken screams, happy and sad cries, dark coffee, tea, warm hugs, late night cuddles, mindful arrogance, egotistic humbleness, and everything in between.

for now, they would take it day by day, minute by minute, and that would always be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by the tragic shooting in Orlando at Pulse night club. My whole broken heart goes out to all victims and families of the victims. Stand up for rights, and stop the hate. Love is love. Keep loving. Love must always prevail.
> 
> Love,  
> Jasmine


End file.
